Who could have imagined Julian Hayes, a man of significant business influence, would be brought to his knees, begging for mercy from a woman who seemed so delicate?
Isabella’s eyes opened slowly, her gaze weak but unyielding as it settled on Julian. Her voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable strength. “Mr. Hayes, when I repeatedly declined your demands, neither you nor Miss Reed showed me any consideration. You labeled me obsessive, claiming my dedication to the company overrode all personal limits. You brushed aside my refusal to drink, insisting that without my compliance, you would not work with Blackwood Enterprises.”
“Mr. Hayes, were those not your exact words?” Isabella pressed, her tone laced with sharp sarcasm that made Julian’s expression darken visibly.
His lips trembled under the weight of her accusation. After a strained silence, he managed to whisper, “Miss Scott, I was wrong—please, grant me this one chance to make amends.”
Sophia, who had never expected to see the usually reserved Isabella confront someone so directly, felt a sudden impulse to defend Julian. She nearly stood to speak on his behalf, but Ethan’s icy glare held her in place.
“Mr. Hayes, since you hold such disdain for Blackwood Enterprises, I believe it is best we terminate our association immediately.” Ethan’s voice was frigid, leaving no room for argument.
Overcome by the severity of the situation, Julian collapsed to the floor, his face a mask of despair. Despite all his efforts, his company had never risen above mediocrity. A corporate giant like Blackwood Enterprises, built on generations of success, could effortlessly bankrupt him. In a final, desperate attempt, Julian grabbed a bottle of wine. “Mr. Blackwood, I’ll drink!” He took a frantic gulp, hoping against hope to repair the irreparable damage.
The alcohol burned his throat, bringing tears to his eyes, but Julian persisted. This temporary pain was nothing compared to the ruin of bankruptcy.
One bottle, two bottles, three bottles…
No one dared to make a sound. All eyes were fixed on Julian as he drowned himself in liquor, each bottle tipped back like the last act of a condemned man.
His torment continued relentlessly. Bottle after bottle, until the fifth one sealed his fate. His body gave out, his world spun, and the next moment, he collapsed—a dead weight on the cold floor.
Ethan’s face twisted in disgust. He turned to Benjamin with cold detachment. “I’ll leave the rest to you,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.
“Of course, Mr. Blackwood,” Benjamin responded with a respectful nod. Ignoring the stunned expressions around them, Ethan grabbed his coat and strode out, pulling Isabella along with him.
The chill of the night air hit them, cutting through the stench of alcohol that clung to their clothes. It was a refreshing, cleansing breeze that seemed to clear Isabella’s head slightly. She shook it vigorously, trying to dispel the lingering haze of intoxication. She needed to escape, to find solace in the quiet of her own space.
She walked straight to the roadside, intending to hail a taxi home. There was something unsettling about the way Isabella ignored him, leaving Ethan with a vague but persistent discomfort he couldn’t articulate. He approached her and grasped her hand, his voice edged with irritation. “After everything I did for you tonight, Isabella, do I not even warrant a word?”
Isabella turned to face him, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and indifference. “Oh, thank you,” she murmured, her tone flat.
“That’s it?” Ethan chuckled dryly, his frustration surfacing. “Just a ‘thank you’?”
“What more do you want?” Isabella retorted, her confusion evident. “What else should I say?”